And
what memory was this which awoke in her? Did not she herself once
visit upon him a fault in which he had little if any part? She
recalled that evening, long ago, at Queen's Gate, when she was
offended by the coarse behaviour of Piers Otway's second brother.
True, there was something else that moved her censure on that
occasion, but she would scarcely have noticed it save for the
foolish incident at the door. Fortune was not his friend. She
thought of the circumstances of his birth, which had so cruelly
wronged him when Jerome Otway died. Now, more likely than not, her
father would resent his coming to Mrs. Hannaford's, would see in it
something suspicious, a suggestion of base purpose.
"I can't stand that!" Irene exclaimed to herself. "If he is
calumniated, I shall defend him, come of it what may!"
At luncheon, Dr. Derwent was grave and disinclined to converse. On
learning where Irene had been, he nodded, making no remark. It was a
bad sign that his uneasiness could no longer be combated with a dry
joke.
As three o'clock drew near, Irene made no preparation for going out.
She sat in the drawing-room, unoccupied, and was found thus when
Arnold Jacks entered.
"You got my note?" he began, with a slight accent of surprise.
Irene glanced at him, and perceived that he did not wear his wonted
countenance. This she had anticipated, with an uneasiness which now
hardened in her mind to something like resentment.
Pages:
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333